


It Takes Two

by shoestringjoe



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Mean Girls, Misunderstandings, TFiOS, but other than that, harry is a newbie, in fact school doesn't even play much of a part for them, most of them are either in year 2 or 3, oh also if you squint rlly close and use your imagination there's ziam, thats it, the others major in other stuff but isn't obvious, theatre major!louis, they live in a house on campus, too many references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2078430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoestringjoe/pseuds/shoestringjoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clichéd college au where there’s too many references, mixtapes are involved, Louis burns down a kitchen, Harry Styles is actually Romeo, and the rest just want them to kiss already (which they do in the end - spoiler alert!)</p><p>(Title is from a soundtrack off Hairspray - which is an amazing movie yet mostly unrelated to the fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Takes Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [honestfear (luckyniko)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckyniko/gifts).



> This is for the hl summer fest thing which has been amazingly coordinated by the lovely leah and ren for ao3 user luckyniko, I hope you like it!! 
> 
> Based on this prompt: drama club/theater major!Louis - anything, anyway, any reason. I just really love Louis.
> 
> Thank you so, so, so, so, much to my beta (whom I can't reveal - yet!) for contributing and helping so much and my loveliest friends who volunteered (no I kind of forced them) to read through it before I submit it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own One Direction, and almost everything is fiction, really.

“Louis. Get the fuck _off_ my seat,” Niall complains as he reaches the dining table. Not that it’s an actual-sized dining table; it’s more of a common rectangular table with eight chairs around it and right now Louis _is_ aware that he’s sitting in Niall’s chair. But it’s nearer to the pancakes and he wants pancakes.

“I want pancakes. And I can’t reach them from my spot.” He says lazily, scooting away anyway. It’s better not to mess with Niall and his food.

Liam walks over and grabs Louis’ plate, piling the pancakes onto it before putting it back down again. Louis just grins at him while he grabs at the whipped cream.

“You shouldn’t do that, Li,” Zayn says as he arrives at the table. “Louis’ going to leave university without having learnt how to pile his own plate with pancakes.”

Liam just shrugs as Zayn takes his place next to him, opposite Niall and beside Louis, who, obviously, sits at the head of the table. Soon, the place is full of laughter and warm coffee as the others wake up and joined the four of them.

There were eleven of them in this house – Louis, Zayn, Niall and Liam, and Perrie, Sophia, Jesy, Jade, Greg, Matty and Nick. But Nick and Sophia graduated last fall, so it’s down to eight.

Until now, that is.

“Have you guys heard of the new guy coming in?” Jade asks as she munches on a piece of French toast.

"A first year?"

"I hope he's not a snob," says Liam. "If we get another Louis I'm not cool with this."

" _Excuse me?_ I hope he's a snob," Louis huffs. "Just to piss you off."

"I hope he's not a weirdo."

"He's not got a lot of hair, does he? I'm not sweeping that up."

"I hope he's cute."

"Jade, you're two years older than he is."

"I'm not saying I want to _date_ him."

"How do you know he's a guy?"

"Well, I hope he cooks."

Niall raises his hand in amen as he agrees with Perrie.

"But which room shall he have?"

“He can take Nick’s room,” Louis suggests.

“Can I have it instead?” Liam asks. “I have a lot of machine stuff this year and I need the space.”

“I don’t mind him bunking with me,” Zayn quips.

Louis smiles as he finishes the last of his tea. “It’s settled then. New guy stays with Zayn and Liam gets his room. Now while you guys busy yourself with stuff, I’m heading back to bed.”

\--

Louis wakes up to an incredible smell. Which he is sure has never infiltrated this house. Ever. Unless you count that time the other house came over and brought food. He pulls on his shirt and walks out the door, sniffing as he reaches the kitchen. Which is currently occupied by a stranger.

He clears his throat. “Um.”

The stranger turns around and smiles as he walks over and holds his hand out. “Hi.”

Louis shakes it gingerly. His hand was small compared to this person’s, whoever he may be. Maybe he was a cook. A cook with a spectacular jaw line and the cutest dimples. And hair. Lots of curly hair.

“Are you a cook Niall hired so that we don’t ever have to eat instant noodles and curry for the rest of our college lives?”

“What?” the stranger’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Um, I don’t think so? I live here. Apparently. I’m Harry Styles.”

“Your name is _Styles_? Like, the verb and noun.”

“Yep.”

Well. “You must be the first year.”

“I guess I am,” he replies with another smile. He saunters back to the stove where he starts to stir the pot. “Do you want some? I made plenty.”

“What’s that? It smells heavenly,” Louis says as he walks over to Harry.

“Bolognese,” Harry answers. “It’s a bit spicy, because I like to put pepper in it. You’re okay with pepper, right?”

“Of course I am,” Louis counters, offended. “A little bit of pepper never harmed anybody.”

“Okay, that’s good, then. It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

Louis walks to the table and pulls out a chair. “Have you met the rest, then?”

“I’ve met Zayn for a while before he has to rush off somewhere. He seems nice.”

“Zayn’s too nice for his own good,” Louis chuckles as he reaches for a piece of leftover toast. It’s quite disgusting now that it’s cold. “Have you met Niall yet?”

“Nope, there was barely anyone here when I got in. I thought classes didn’t start until two weeks from now.”

“They don’t,” Louis replies. “They’re all off to settle their schedules and laptops and whatnot. I chose to stay, because, well, I prefer to utilise my time well with sleeping before the term starts. Then it’ll be hell and no sleep for months. What are you studying?”

“Law and economics,” Harry says as he scoops out two plates of spaghetti and sets it on the table. “I was thinking of English Literature but I’m not very good at Literature, I think.”

Louis munches happily at his mouthful of pasta. “That’s what Zayn’s taking. Also History. You could’ve been in one of his classes. I think Perrie’s taking Law, too. Mmm. This is fucking amazing, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, his words genuine. Louis already likes this boy. “What are you taking?”

“Contemporary Drama and Theatre,” Louis replies. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, I guess. So why law? You don’t seem like the kind of person who likes to argue with people.”

“I dunno,” Harry admits. He twirls a few strands of spaghetti before eating it. “I thought it would be pretty useful. I’m interested in economics, though. It’s something I look forward to.”

Louis pulls a face. “Niall’s somewhere along that line, too. He’s doing Music Theory and Management. Liam’s doing some engineering thing. I can’t really remember what the others are majoring in, though. Jade’s probably doing sociology. I’ve no idea.”

“How many people are in here, again?”

“Used to be eleven, but two graduated last fall – Nick and Sophia. Liam’s taken Nick’s room so you’re taking his place as Zayn’s roomie.”

“Explains the machinery under the bed,” Harry muses as he puts some more parmesan on his pasta. “I can’t wait to meet them all.”

Just then, the door bursts open as a shock of blonde hair waltzes into the kitchen and headed straight for the stove. Niall helps himself to a plate before walking to the table. He frowns at Harry, who is sitting in his seat. He looks as if he is about to explode. But he is Niall, so he isn't mad very long and sits at Zayn’s chair instead. If there’s one thing Louis loves about this Irish boy, it’s that.

“Niall, this is Harry Styles. First year.” Louis introduces them to each other. “Harry, this is Niall Horan. Second.”

“Hi, did you make this?” Niall says, his mouth already red with bolognese sauce. “It’s fucking amazing.”

“Thanks,” Harry grins in response. “Louis was just telling me about you.”

“Oh, was he?”

“Yeah, Ni, I was just telling him about all your dirty little secrets.”

Harry looks scandalised but it is quickly replaced by confusion when Niall just laughs. “Right. I hope you find them interesting, Harry.”

“Um.”

“I think you’re scaring him a bit, Ni,” Louis says. He turns to look at Harry and offers an apologetic smile. “Please excuse my roommate. He can be a bit… friendly.”

Niall snorts. “If anyone’s too friendly, it’s you, asshole.”

Louis is just about to retort when the door burst open and in came Liam and Zayn, looking a bit frazzled by the humidity outdoors.

“Hello,” Liam says politely as he steps in behind Zayn. “You must be the new kid.”

“I’m Harry,” says Harry. “And you must be…”

“Liam Payne. Second.”

“The one with the machines?”

Liam looks as if he doesn’t know if he should feel offended or flattered that someone notices his machines (which weren’t even difficult to _not_ notice since they litter every free space in the house). “Uh, yeah.”

“So how are you finding the place, Harry?” Zayn says as he sits down with his own plate of spaghetti. “I hope Louis hasn’t terrorised you with whatever he terrorises people with.”

“Why is everyone against me?” Louis splutters. “Don’t listen to them Harry, I’m the nicest person here. You’ll see.”

“Sure,” Niall smirks. “That’s why he’s royalty here. Like, don’t even think about sitting in his chair at the head of this table if you don’t want to be beheaded by the Royal Highness.”

“Excuse me but did you see your face when I sat down in your seat this morning?”

Niall and Louis bicker while Harry just stares back and forth between them.

“So, Harry,” Liam clears his throat. “When do your classes start?”

“Thursday, which means that I have plenty of time to explore the campus.”

“I can show you around,” Niall offers, apparently given up on the argument he had with Louis, who seems satisfied. (Harry assumes he had won.)

“I can show you the world,” Louis sings. Zayn whacks him on the arm. Louis sticks his tongue out and finishes the last of his lunch, humming under his breath.

“Sure.”

“Hey but aren’t you supposed to help me find a donkey for my production?” Louis points out, annoyed. “The production rehearsal’s in less than two months. You _promised_. Zayn can show him around.”

“I have that art thing I need to attend, remember?” Zayn says.

“I’m sure you can find said donkey on your own, Louis.”

“But-”

Harry interrupts before they get into another argument. “It’s okay, Niall, I can manage on my own. You can help Louis find, um, a donkey.”

“If there’s anything, you can let us know, we’re always a door away,” Liam smiles at Harry. “What’s your cell number? I’ll key you in.”

While Harry swaps numbers with the rest of them, Louis can’t help but feel a bit off, but it was probably him being a big drama queen as usual – he’s sure it’s the hype about Harry being new to the group. That’s all.

\--

The following days are busy for Louis, because he has to complete his final proposal for the Head of Drama Department first thing next week. He sits in his room almost all the time, poring over scripts and schedules of auditions set up as soon as possible so that he could get the cast ready in time for rehearsals in a couple of months’ time.

The others, meanwhile, are busy in their own ways since school has started for them, but they always made time to hang around the living room and kitchen and eat whatever Harry had whipped up for them – except for Louis, who refused because “it’s okay, I grabbed a granola bar from the canteen just now”.

“But granola bars couldn’t keep you going for very long, see, I made some soup if you want.”

“Damn it, Harry, I’m fine, okay. I just ate a granola bar and I need to settle these scripts now if you'll excuse me.”

And he’s pretty much the same with the other boys, too. He snapped at Liam the other day when he was told to put his shoes “in an orderly fashion” and he “just doesn’t have the fucking time, okay?”

Soon, he’s locking himself in the room. Mostly, however, he’s been trying to avoid Harry since after that first day.

See, Louis’ always kind of the one who runs the house, but lately, everyone’s hanging around Harry.

Niall won’t even play his guitar in the room anymore. He  frequents Harry’s room and they’ll both jam out to songs Louis’ sure he’s never heard  before. And Zayn’s always busy nowadays, because he’s trying to get into some fancy arts program, but when he’s free, he’s always seen lounging on the sofas with Harry, talking about some philosophical stuff. Even the girls, after having met Harry, were taken by his charisma – which, Louis has to admit, is pretty strong, but whatever.

He knows he’s being bitter. It’s mostly the stress that’s getting to him, probably, and the reason the boys don’t hang out with him much is because of how he snaps at people who interrupt his work, but he’s still annoyed.

Louis sighs, looking over the final scene he had planned out for the play. He was just about to edit some lines when he hears a soft knock on his door.

“Who is it?”

“Um, it’s Harry.”

“I’m busy. What do you want?” Louis puts down his pen and waits.

“I know, I know, Zayn told me not to disturb you but, um, I’ve noticed that you’ve not been eating properly for a few days and I, uh, I just want to say I left a plate of lasagna on the counter if you feel hungry?”

Louis didn’t respond. Harry clears his throat and Louis can tell that his voice is wavering a bit.

“Sorry if I bothered you, I’ll, um, go now.”

Louis hears the scuffling of footsteps leave his door and grabs the nearest pillow before screaming into it. Why is he so nice when all Louis has done lately was brush him off and ignore him? It’s like he was purposely trying to guilt trip him.

Later that night, he catches Zayn outside, and the dark-haired boy made it obvious that he was partly surprised to see Louis.

“Look, he’s alive,” Zayn teases, offering Louis a cigarette.

Louis takes it and lights it up using the lighter Zayn handed him. “Shut up.”

“It’s a nice night.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“What’s going on, Lou?”

And, see, that’s the thing about Zayn. Louis can pretend like he’s the strongest person to exist on Earth, but Zayn knows how much of a softie Louis is. He always knows when Louis’ troubled. And he always gives Louis space because he knows that Louis will tell if and when he’s ready.

“Do you guys hate me?”

Zayn puffs out a steady string of smoke rings before looking at his friend, his eyes glinting under the moonlight. “Why in fuck would you think that?”

“I don’t know. Since Harry moved in, all you guys ever seem to hang around with is him and no one talks to me.”

“You are aware that all you do is lock yourself in the room, right?”

“I’m busy with the play.”

“And I’m busy with my art program.”

“Yeah but-”

“No buts, Lou,” Zayn sighs. “So that’s what this is all about? You’re ignoring us and being snappy because of Harry.”

“You make it sound like I’m a prick.”

“Lou,” Zayn says, putting his hand on Louis’ shoulder. “You are undoubtedly the most self-centred person I’ve ever encountered in my life but you’re also the kindest, and personally, I don’t know how that’s even possible. So yes, you are kind of a prick to Harry right now. Maybe you should get to know him a bit better and, you know, stop pretending that there’s still a million things to do for the play.”

“What if I cook something to prove that he’s not the only person who can whip something up?”

“Louis, you can’t even boil water without burning the house down.”

“Excuse me,” Louis says, his tone in mock offense. “I can totally boil water. How do you think I make my tea?”

“Be nice,” Zayn pats him on the back before putting his cigarette out.

Louis stays outside, finishing his cigarette, and by the time he’s done, he’s decided on a plan.

He’s going to cook.

\--

Louis is panicking. What was he thinking when he decided to tell everyone that he’s cooking dinner? _No problem, Harold,_ he had said, _I’ll settle dinner, it’s no big. You’re not the only one who knows how to cook, you know?_

Hell yeah it’s a big. It’s a Big big. He can’t even whip up anything besides iced water. He’s suddenly reminded of how much Zayn had done to keep him alive. Like buy him Chinese food every other night before Harry.

He pinches the bridge of his nose as he snapped his laptop open and hurriedly typed ‘ _Simple Dishes for Dummies_ ’ in the Google search bar.

“Scrambled Eggs with _Crab_?” he mumbled incredulously. “How in fuck is that a simple dish for dummies?”

After drooling over fifteen links for recipes he’s certain are _not_ for dummies, Louis looks over to the clock on the wall and groans. He barely has two hours left. He carries the laptop over to the kitchen counter and saunters over to the fridge, trying to see what they actually even have. Chicken, mayonnaise ( _ew_ ), salsa, some green looking thing in a Tupperware, cheese, leftover pizza, eggs, some ham, and a sad looking celery. He’s not even sure how it got there.

He walks back over to the laptop and typed in “chicken cheese ham eggs simple recipe” before sighing as he looks over the recipes and was happy to see that it was narrowed down to easier recipes. He clicked on the one that seems the easiest and smiled.

“Right, okay,” he says. “Now where are the pans?”

Ten minutes later, he’s sure he has all the ingredients on the countertop just beside the laptop, the pan is on the stove, and he has put on a cool apron he found with rockets on it. He’s good to go.

Somehow, he finds himself in a very stressful situation sixteen minutes later as he watches his stove catch fire. He’s not even sure what he did, much less what he did _wrong_. He could’ve sworn he left the chicken in the pan for five minutes before he goes to scroll through his dashboard and when he turns around, _this_ happened.

The smoke alarm wasn’t even working, and he doesn’t know _why_.

He doesn’t expect Harry to be the one to come barging in, though, because for a second he forgot that Harry actually lives here so when he sees the shocked boy he just says, “um.”

Harry, as if he was a fireman in another life, walks over to him, and without a word, lifts Louis up and casually places him outside the kitchen while he hoists a fire extinguisher (where did _that_ come from?) and effectively eradicates the situation. He makes sure the fire is really out before switching off the gas and turning around to see a still pretty dumbfounded Louis.

“Louis.”

“Harry.”

“ _Louis_ ,” he stresses again. “What happened?”

“I was trying to cook is what happened.”

“You almost burned down the kitchen.”

“It’s not _my_ fault I don’t know I’m not supposed to leave a chicken for sixteen minutes.” He huffed.

Harry sighs deeply before walking over to the shorter boy. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I don’t think so? Just maybe a bit traumatised. A bit- hey!” he yells as Harry lifts him over his shoulder. “What are you doing- I said I’m _fine_.”

“We might need to check you out a little. You might have suffered from a few burns. Or, like, a concussion.”

Louis continues to grumble as Harry walks out to the living room, Louis still on his shoulder. And the worst thing is that he’s carrying him like he weighs nothing. _Fuck everything_ , Louis thinks.

“We’re out of the danger zone now, can you please put me down? You’re kind of throwing away what’s left of my man...liness.”

“You’re pretty adorable when you pretend like you’re the most macho person ever, do you know that?” Harry laughs. Louis could feel the vibrations of his laugh run down his spine. He’s also pretty sure his face is redder than chili. That’s a horrible comparison but whatever.

“’m not adorable,” he mumbles grouchily from his position. “’m _punk rock_. See this scruff and beanie?”

Harry laughs again as he puts Louis down and Louis huffs indignantly. “Aren’t you supposed to have class?”

“I forgot my economics textbook,” Harry replies. He looks Louis over a couple more times before deciding that he was good to go. “You’re fine. I mean, you don’t, um, have any burns or whatever on you.”

“I know that but thanks for the diagnosis, doc. You can grab your textbook now and leave me here in my own pool of embarrassment.”

Harry throws him a dimpled smile which Louis purposely tried to look away from and he saunters off to take his book before leaving Louis with a “bye, and don’t worry about dinner, we can order something tonight.”

\--

“ _You burned our stove?_ ” Liam screeches as soon as he reaches the kitchen.

“Relax, it’s just a bit of a burn,” Louis says. “Besides, it still works.”

“Did anyone know you were going to cook?”

“Everyone did. I told them I would.”

“What? Who is everyone? When was this? Zayn, did you authorise this?”

Zayn lifts his hands up in surrender. “I wasn’t here.”

“I was the only one here besides Jade and Jesy,” Harry admits. “I thought it would be okay?”

Liam shoots Harry a withering look before Niall swoops in and settles the argument with boxes of char kway, chow mein and dim sum.

“Harry, you now know that Louis shouldn’t be placed near any kind of electrical appliance in the kitchen except for the kettle.”

He knows that Niall was joking, but Louis can’t help but get annoyed at that, especially since Harry was giving him a look of what – _understanding_?

“I had it under control,” Louis insists. “I fucked up the timing, okay, that’s it. I know I’m not Harry Styles. Fuck.”

“Louis,” Zayn warns, but Louis wouldn’t hear it. He grabs his takeout box and storms into his room, closing the door behind while Harry stares confusedly at that. Zayn shakes his head while the rest eat in silence.

\--

Classes start for Louis the following week. And if he was busy before, he is certainly more so now. Besides the play, he has homework to do and articles to read up on. University, he decides, is for the crazed people in society.

The tension that surrounds the house whenever he and Harry are in the same room isn’t helping with the situation, either. He wonders when he had let this take a turn for the worse. It’ll sort itself out, probably. But in the meantime, Louis had resumed his diet of granola bars and food from the canteen.

This doesn’t stop Harry from knocking on his door every night to inform him of what he’s left him, however. Maybe it’s because of what Louis had said that night. It’s making him feel guilty, which in turn makes him feel angry, and then annoyed at himself because why can’t he just let it go, damn it.

The thing is that Louis doesn’t exactly hate Harry. In fact, they had clicked the moment they met on the first day. He’s pretty sure he fell in love with those curls and dimples, too. But.

Even Niall sighs at him whenever he goes into the room to sleep. He’ll pat Louis’ shoulder before clambering over into his own bed and Louis will feel a bit bad because he’s the main reason why any of the boys now feel weird about the dynamics around the house.

“Sorry, Niall,” Louis says one night as Niall flops into his bed.

“What are you sorry at me for?” Niall mumbles into his pillow. “Shouldn’t it be him you should be apologising to? Talk things out, Lou. I know you are a drama queen, but you aren’t an asshole.”

“I can’t just walk up to him and say ‘hi I’m sorry for being a jerk, I’m just jealous of you’, can I?”

But Niall was already asleep.

\--

Louis leaves his room the next night and heads for the kitchen. It is dark, so he turns on a small light so as not to wake anyone up. He smiles a little when he sees a bowl wrapped in foil just beside the microwave, labelled ‘for Louis’.

He pops it into the microwave and checks his Twitter feed while waiting. He hears a scuffle and then someone with unmistakable curly hair enters the kitchen, his eyes bleary and tired, as if he’s just woken up from sleep.

“Louis?” Harry asks, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I just finished my essay and felt hungry so I decided to grab a bite.”

“Oh, are you heating up my risotto?”

“Um, yeah,” Louis admits sheepishly. “You weren’t planning on eating it, were you?”

“It’s there labelled ‘for Louis’ for a reason, Lou,” Harry smiles.

And it isn't obvious, but there is a hint of uncertainty in Harry’s eyes as he lets the nickname slip out, and figures out how to go about the conversation without setting Louis off again.

“I’m sorry,” Louis finally says.

Harry looks confusedly at him. "What for?”

“I’m sorry. I've been a huge prick and I know I hurt your feelings when all you were trying to do was cook me food and be nice to me. I was just a bit jealous, is all.”

“But why would you be jealous of _me_?”

“You’re going to laugh at me if I tell you why.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Really?”

“ _Pinky promise_.”

“Well… I was jealous because everyone seems to like you and not me anymore.”

Harry frowns at this. “Louis, I swear I wasn’t trying to, like, _overshadow_ you or anything.”

“I know,” Louis sighs as he takes the bowl out from the oven. “It felt like it, though. I’m really a huge narcissist, god knows how they tolerate me.”

“You’re just really busy lately and we don’t want to bother you,” Harry nudges Louis with his hip. “Unless you don’t mind if we do.”

Louis laughs a little at that. “Yeah I wouldn’t mind, I think.”

“And you know, I can teach you how to cook, if you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Well, I’m going to head back to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Okay. Good night, Lou.”

“Night, Harold.”

\--

It gets much easier from that moment onwards. The tension is lifted and while Louis is still busy, he joins the rest whenever he can and is glad about the real food he’s getting lately, although he isn't going to admit it to anyone. Especially not Harry.

Speaking of Harry, he’s been taking some cooking lessons from him, except that his main contribution is eating instead of actually cooking, but Harry seems like he doesn’t mind one bit. One day, while they prepare ravioli, Harry asks Louis about his favourite bands and he has a hard time deciding before he settles on The Fray and The Script.

“Great choice,” Harry comments. “Not my cup of tea, personally, but I know they’re great artists.”

“The best,” Louis insists. “I went to the Script’s concert a few years back at the O2 and it was amazing.”

“I went to their concert too. It was in February, I think.”

“The 25th?”

“I think so, why?”

“So did I,” Louis blinks. “So weird.”

“We could’ve met then,” Harry says, and Louis agrees. They could’ve even been standing next to each other but they didn’t.

“So what’s yours? Wait, let me guess,” Louis says before Harry could answer. “Is it one of those obscure indie bands no one’s ever heard of?”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Harry laughs. “But yes. I can make a mixtape for you if you want. They’re not as bad as you think they are. I promise.”

“You make a lot of promises. And to be fair, I too, young Harold, will give you my own selection of songs and you will listen to it.”

“That I will,” Harry smiles.

Louis hops off the counter and sniffs at the pot. Harry lifts the spatula so that Louis could taste it, and beamed when Louis gave him a thumbs up.

“You should seriously consider giving the cook a tip or two,” Louis laughs.

\--

Harry decides to skip his Critical Writing class the following day and stay at the house to finish his report while the others rush off to their respective classes. He was just getting through the final paragraph when the door to his room swung open.

“Hey Zayn- oh,” Louis startles upon seeing Harry. “Hey. I thought you were Zayn, sorry.”

“It’s fine. Zayn’s not back yet.”

“Ugh, he’s so late. He’s supposed to help me with auditions for the play but I guess I’ll wait for him at the auditorium. Thanks anyway.”

“No problem,” Harry says. He suddenly remembers something and calls out to the boy before he leaves. “Hey, Louis?”

Louis looks at him expectantly, still halfway out the door.

“I made the mixtape earlier if you want to hear it? Later. I mean.”

“Yeah? Okay, that’ll be great,” Louis beams at him. “Well, I gotta rush off now. I’ll be back for dinner!”

A smile spread across his face as Louis sprints off to wherever he’s supposed to be and he doesn’t realise until the timer on his laptop beeped because he had hadn’t been typing for close to ten minutes. Also, his cheeks kind of hurt.

He’s always been a smiley person, his mum and sister tell him so, but since last night, he wouldn’t stop smiling because of one reason and that was Louis’ smile. And, like, crinkly eyes. Which Harry had noticed was so, so blue the first time they met. But you know, it doesn’t _mean_ anything. They were friends.

\--

When Harry enters Louis’ room that night to give him the tape, he isn't surprised to see Louis surrounded by piles of paper and stationery atop his bed.

“Harry!” Louis exclaims as soon as he sees him. He leaned back to reach over his pillows and pulled out a CD in a casing. “I was wondering when you’d come up. Here, the mixtape I owe you.”

“And this,” Harry says as he takes the one Louis’ holding out and hands over the one he had been holding, “is for you.”

“Hopefully it’ll get me through the night, huh?”

“Working on your play again?”

“If there’s something else I have to work on, I probably will explode.”

“Where’s Niall?”

“Oh he’s at the Scholar’s Pub getting pints with his project mates. Liam and Zayn are out as well. I think the girls have a dance rehearsal. And god knows where the rest are.”

“How did the auditions go just now?”

Louis takes off his glasses (which Harry thinks looks cute on him) and put it on his bedside table. “It was okay. I haven’t really found my Romeo yet.”

“Romeo? You’re doing Romeo and Juliet?”

“Well, obviously not, how can you ever think I’m that predictable and boring?” Louis huffs. “I’m doing a spin-off.”

Harry shifts his weight and leans against the doorway. “Oh. What’s it about then?”

“Well, see, it’s about two guys in their college years – this is a modern setting – and they met at some convention for rich people – because their parents are rich – and anyway it wasn’t love at first sight but it was more of a ‘hey let’s piss off our parents by pretending that we’re together – because they’re sick of being told what to do – and it actually works – their parents were mad and Romeo’s parents shipped him off to boarding school in Glasgow – and Julian – that’s the male version of Juliet – no shit – was annoyed because he had just grown to like that other boy – also he was his only friend – the others think that he’s too loud and obnoxious – so one day he sneaks out and went on to search for Romeo, you know the drill – then he actually got to meet Romeo – who wasn’t really affected by Julian’s _heroic_ arrival – and Julian was hurt – because he thought he’s doing Romeo a _favour_ , see, and Romeo’s treating him like yesterday’s news – so Julian decides to scheme against him and blackmails him by telling Romeo’s parents – anonymously of course – that Romeo has a polygamous affair with the boys in the school – which is not true, obviously – he only wants Julian but he’s not going to tell anyone _that_ – and anyway I’m talking too much oh right – but in the end it… doesn’t really work out well. Julian dies. Spoiler alert.”

Louis stops talking because he has to breathe and Harry just stands there trying to process the word vomit the other boy just threw at him because, wow, that’s a lot of words.

“That’s a lot of words,” he finally says.

“And even more words on paper,” Louis sighs. “Which isn’t actually written by me, obviously. I’m just the person who oversees everything.”

“So what happens in the end? Like, what exactly happens? Before Julian dies?”

“They ran away and adopted a kid but Julian’s parents were important people and threatened to cut off Romeo’s parents from the elite society they depend on. And so Julian has to go. Romeo kept the kid – they named her Rose – and then ten years later he finds out that Julian’s dying of pneumonia. He visits him anyway, because the drama was long forgotten ever since his dad had died, and when he got to the hospital, it was almost too late.”

Both were silent for a while until Harry peels himself off the doorway and says, “Well if that wasn’t a tad bit depressing.”

“We’re teenagers, Harold, we live for non-cliché endings. Someone has to die.”

Harry mumbles something that sounds like an agreement and stretches himself. “Well, I’d better leave you to your depressing play, then.”

Louis laughs at that. “And thanks for the mixtape. I’ll tell you if I like it tomorrow morning.”

“It _is_ the morning.”

“Later then,” Louis smiles at Harry. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Lou.”

\--

Louis is obsessed with Arabella. He couldn’t stop listening to Harry’s mixtape without replaying Arctic Monkeys’ Arabella three times before moving on to The 1975’s Lost Boys. The other songs were alright, but these two songs stuck to his head as many times as Harry’s smile does. Not that he’d ever admit to both things.

“ _Arabella's got some interstellar-gator skin boots_ ,” he sings as he waltzes down the stairs to the kitchen. “ _And a helter skelter 'round her little finger and I ride it endlessly._ ”

Looking around to see that no one is to be seen, he grabs the salt shaker and starts to croon into it, pretending that he was Alex Turner instead of being late for his nine o’clock class.

“ _She's got a Barbarella silver swimsuit — and when she needs to shelter from reality she takes a dip in my daydreams._ ”

“ _My days end best when this sunset gets itself._ ”

Louis almost drops the salt shaker when he turns around and sees a smirking Harry Styles, hair wonderfully tousled from a morning shower and, really, it’s too early for this. His cheeks flamed, and he shuts up as the other boy walks over to the fridge and pulls out the carton of milk.

“Someone’s already memorised the lyrics from a certain song based off a certain playlist from a certain person,” Harry comments, gulping milk straight from the carton, not breaking eye contact with Louis.

“I wonder who,” Louis answers primly. He sucks on the straw of his orange juice.

Harry’s lip curled, and he sets down the carton, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I really liked your mixtape, by the way. I can’t get Phoenix out of my head. I knew Fall Out Boy released a new album but I hadn’t heard this song yet.”

“It’s the first song on the album.”

“Well. I didn’t hear any of it.”

“Did you like Hey There Delilah?” Louis asks. “Classic Plain White T’s. But I agree _—_ Phoenix is really addictive. I do the instrumental parts every time.”

“No way,” Harry grins, his eyes lighting up.  “I air guitar and air drum all the time, too. Look like a right twat, though.”

“You should totally listen to their full album, then. They have crazy guitar tunes.”

“We should totally listen to it together. An air drumming and guitar session might be fun.”

“I might have to warn you that I’m really good at both just in case you’re looking for some competition.”

Harry raises his right eyebrow. “I wasn’t, actually, but now that you’ve mentioned it…”

“No,” Liam says as he walks into the kitchen. “The last time Louis ‘air drummed’, he accidentally punched Niall in the nose and he had to go to the hospital.”

“What,” Harry says flatly.

“It was an _accident_ ,” Louis insists.

“I did say it was an accident.”

“Well, he should’ve known better for coming near me when I get my headphones on.”

“No.” Liam pokes Louis in the ribs before grabbing a granola bar and going back up.

“So, have you heard my mixtape yet?” Harry asks when they were both alone again. Louis steals a glance at the clock on the wall behind Harry, and notices that it was 9:15. Oh well. It’s too late to go now.

“It wasn’t really anything special,” Louis tries to shrug nonchalantly. “I mean, Arabella was pretty cool, I guess.”

“Not even slightly amazing?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Maybe? _A little_?” Harry puts a hand to his mouth, as if he is offended. Louis is _not_ endeared by that. Okay, maybe a little.

“God. What do you want from me?”

“ _Maybe you're right, maybe this is all that I can be — But what if it's you, and it wasn't me? — What do you want from me? — What do you want from me?_ ” Harry sings.

“I’m late for class,” Louis says. He tries to look apathetic but a smile is threatening to split across his face so he pretends to check his watch instead. “I better get going before Mr. Harrisford decides to ask me to sweep the stage again. I’m so tired of sweeping.”

“Oh,” Harry says. He softly nudges Louis’ shoulder with his fist before grinning. “Well, then, I guess I’ll see you later.”

Louis smiles at the gesture before grabbing his books from the table and rushing out the door, his earbuds plugged in, Arabella blasting in his ears.

\--

The night after all the cast members are confirmed, Louis decides to take a break so he fished out several DVDs and popped Mean Girls in, because why the hell not? He feels strongly about Gretchen Wiener being him in another life.

Forty-five minutes in, the door swung open and Niall barges in, smacks Louis a kiss on his cheek and saunters off to their room all the while singing Call Me Maybe.

“Hey, Niall,” Louis calls out. “Do you know if we’re having dinner tonight or shall I call for pizza?”

“Dunno, mate, reckon you could text Harry and ask him yourself. You guys are on alright terms now, innit?”

Louis whips out his phone only to realise that he doesn’t have Harry‘s number on his cell. “I don’t have his number.”

“It’s alright I’ll call him. I feel like having pizza though.”

“I don’t mind!”

“I’ll call them now,” Niall shouts from the room.

Louis settles back into the couch again, just in time to watch Gretchen Wieners kick a radio off the stage and into the guy’s face. That’s his favourite part, really. Well, besides the part where Gretchen totally loses her shit in class.

_"Why should Caesar get to stomp around like a giant while the rest of us try not to get smushed under his big feet?”_

_“What's so great about Caesar?”_

_“Brutus is just as cute as Caesar.”_

_“Okay, Brutus is just as smart as Caesar.”_

_"People totally like Brutus just as much as they like Caesar.”_

_"And when did it become okay for one person to be the boss of everybody?”_

_"Because that's not what Rome is about!”_

_"WE SHOULD TOTALLY JUST STAB CAESAR!"_

The doorbell rings, and Louis sighs as he pauses the movie and walks over to the door.

“Five large pepperoni pizzas?” The pizza guy asks.

“Yeah that’ll be us.”

“That will be forty thirty five.”

“Hold on. Niall,” he calls out. “Do you have fifty on you? I don’t have the money right now.”

Just then, Harry arrives at the doorstep and pulls out his wallet. “It’s okay, I got this. Here you go. Have a nice day!”

“Came in just in time again, Harry Styles?” Louis asks as he carries the boxes to the living room, snatching a pack of beer on the way. “Are you stalking me?”

“Yes, I am obsessed with you and can’t help myself from following you around all day,” Harry replies seriously.

“I knew it!”

Harry breaks into a grin. He notices the television and asks, “what are you watching?”

“I was actually watching Mean Girls for about the tenth time,” Louis replies as he flops down onto the sofa. He grabs open a can of beer and a slice of pizza. “Epicness has no limits. The limit does not exist.”

“What’s it about?” Harry asks as he sits down beside Louis.

Louis pauses, leaving his right hand holding the pizza suspended in mid-air. “What do you mean what’s it about? Don’t tell me you’ve never watched it before.”

Harry stuffs his face with a slice of pepperoni pizza while Louis splutters.

“How could you not? You know what, we’re going to watch it again tomorrow and I’m going to have to give you a proper movie education. A movie-cation. But in the meantime, I haven’t watched The Fault in Our Stars so I am going to pop it in.”

“Is it a very popular movie as well?”

“I’m not sure which universe you belong to, my child, but boy, do I have a lot to teach you.”

“Please do,” Harry giggles as he tucks his legs under him on the sofa. “Let the watching begin!”

“Always so enthusiastic, Harold.”

“Is someone going to die in the film?”

“I’m not going to say anything until we’ve finished it.”

“There’s totally someone who’s going to die I can feel it.”

“Shut the fuck _up_ , Styles.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

\--

An hour and a half later finds the both of them sobbing into their own shirts, their faces red from crying so much. Also, their legs are somehow tangled together with Louis leaning against the left arm of the sofa and Harry leaning against the right, but whatever. _Details_.

“That,” Harry sniffles as they watched the credits roll. “Was the most fucking depressing movie ever. Besides Titanic.”

“Nat Wolff was so cute, I think I almost choked out my lungs when he was reading Gus’ eulogy.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.”

“Fuck cancer.”

“Fuck cancer,” Harry agrees.

“Did you guys finish all the pizza?” Niall says as he emerges from the room. “ _Did you finish all the pizza?_ ”

“There’s still a couple boxes left in the kitchen, Jesus Christ, Ni. Leave us to weep in our grieving state.”

“You two are so dramatic.”

“Perfect for each other,” Louis sings. Harry tries to hide his blush under his tears.

Niall waves Louis off and plops himself on both of them. “Okay so anyway since you’re done, can I watch football now?”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please.”

“Nope.”

“What?”

“It’s not please.”

“Louis is the most amazing person to ever exist in any universe.”

“Okay.”

“Asshole.”

“Prick.”

“Jerkface.”

“Dick head.”

“Fuck zit.”

“Butt…leg.”

“ _Butt leg?_ ” Harry laughs.

“Shut up,” Louis says, chucking a box of tissue at Harry. “I’m still sad.”

“So am I.”

The two of them sit in gloomy silence as Niall yells at Suarez.

“Well,” Louis finally says as he extracts himself out of Niall’s lap. “Time for me to memorise my lines.”

“Need any help?” Harry offers.

“You don’t have any homework to do?”

“Not really,” he shrugs. “I only have a cover page to settle but other than that, I’m free.”

“You are my saviour, Harry Styles. Come on.” Louis leads him to the room where he plops down onto the bed and clears some paper off it so that Harry could sit down.

“So how does this work?” Harry asks, picking up a stack of paper labelled ‘script’.

“Well, usually I have Jade or Zayn help me but Zayn’s already helping me with the set design and Jade’s busy with costume so I feel bad to ask her to help. Um, you’re Romeo, since that’s who I’ll have the most number of lines with. Or anyone else, actually. Kind of. We kind of just read the lines out loud and improvise if we need to.”

“Okay.”

“Am I really going to have to attend this lousy party, Father? Surely, surely, I can find more purpose staying at home. I have no interest in these elite societies whatsoever.”

“My son, one day, you shall be the heir to our family fortune. How dare you express such insolence towards these people? They’ve done so much for us.”

“The Montagues – that’s you, by the way, Harry, you’re Romeo Montague – Hah, I bet they have.”

“We shall discuss no more, now let’s go.”

“And here we arrive at the party, greetings, bla bla bla, okay, right, this is where I meet you. Okay, go. Look who the cat dragged in.”

“Look what the devil brought home.”

“Montague.”

“Capulet.”

“Nice party.”

“There’s no need for the snooty tone, Capulet, we both know we’d rather eat tadpoles with wasabi than attend this trash.”

“Something we can both agree on. How thrilling.”

“Thrilling, indeed.”

Louis puts down his script and shakes his head at Harry. “Your voice has probably got to be the most morbid I’ve ever heard. Be more energetic, Harold! You sound like a zombie on his funeral day. You’re supposed to be a snooty rich kid who hates people. Act like it!”

“Sorry,” Harry giggles. He tries to put on his snootiest voice. “Thrilling, _INDEED_ , Capuleeeeet.”

They burst into fits of laughter at that. “You,” Louis says in between coughing fits. “You are the worst actor ever oh my god.”

Harry just beams. He feels all giddy and is this what a crush feels like? He's not entirely sure, but he thinks it wouldn't matter if it is.

\--

They practise together the nights after that, too, and soon, Harry pretty much knows Romeo’s lines by heart, and maybe Julian’s as well. Half the time, though, they were laughing, or exaggerating either Romeo or Julian’s snottiness and having to take five because they couldn’t help giggling after every ten seconds. And they had to practise at Harry’s room instead because Niall gets frustrated listening to the same lines at 3am while he was trying to catch some sleep. And they could’ve practised in the living room, but, really. Bedroom > living room. Any day.

“My love, we shall be reunited once more, I promise,” Louis reads the last line of the script. He puts the papers down and takes off his glasses. “I can’t believe the show’s in a month.”

“It’s going to be amazing, Lou,” Harry assures him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you trying to pull an Augustus Waters?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Maybe no shall be our always.”

“Fuck off, Harry.”

“No.”

Louis tried to hide a grin that was threatening to spread across his face. “Okay. I need the scripts back.”

“Oh right okay.”

“On second thought, it’s fine, you can keep it. I can scan new copies before rehearsals.”

“Aww, are you trying to leave bits and pieces of yourself in places I will be?”

“Oh my god. You are impossible.”

“You love me,” Harry winks, and okay, Louis froze for, like, a second before Harry stands up and yawns. “Well, I’m knackered.”

“Trying to kick me out, Harold?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Well. Thanks, Harry,” Louis smiles. “Really. I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother.”

“You don’t mind being bothered, remember?”

“I’m leaving now.”

Harry laughs and follows Louis to the door. Pausing at the doorway, he grins and says, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“Bye, Harry.”

“Bye!”

“ _Will you two please shut the fuck up_ ,” Zayn grumbles from his bed.

\--

“This is an intervention,” Jade says as all of them gathered at the table a couple days before the play. All of them were there, except for Harry, who had to help his tutor out.

“An intervention,” Louis copies.

“An intervention,” Niall agrees. Liam walks over to the seat beside Louis and sits down, Zayn just behind him.

“For?”

“What’s going on between you and Harry?”

Louis blinks. Hard. Twice. “What.”

“Are you two getting chummy with each other?” Jesy asks.

“Maybe,” Louis says. Everyone in the room suddenly comes nearer to him and he puts his hands up in defence. “As _pals_. As platonic bro pals dude whatever.”

“Remember that time you were a 'platonic bro pal dude' with Adam?”

“Nothing _happened_ ,” Louis insists.

“Louis, you locked yourself in the room for three days without leaving when you got to know that Adam was straight.”

“I was a stupid freshman.”

“It was one year ago,” Jade shrills.

“Exactly. I’m fine now. I doubt I’d even be affected if Harry was straight, like, whatever. Like I’ve said, we’re just _pals_.”

And so, there’s that. Except for when Louis finds Zayn outside that night and says, “I’m not fine.”

“I know.”

Louis sighs.

“You two seem to genuinely like each other, though, now that you’ve been spending a lot of time with each other.”

“What if he’s an Adam, Zayn?”

“Harry’s _not_ an Adam, Louis,” Zayn says seriously. “Adam was a prick to lead you on like that. And Harry’s a completely different person. He seems genuinely nice.”

“ _Adam_ seemed genuinely nice.”

“I won’t let anyone fuck with you anymore, Louis.”

Louis leans his head against Zayn’s shoulder. “I know.”

“So don’t fuck this one up.”

“He’s quite perfect, though, Zayn.”

“And so are you.”

“Aww, Zaynie, you’re so sweet.”

“I’m just being nice.”

“You’re too nice.”

“Well, one of us has got to be nice, innit?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis pinches Zayn’s side.

“It means that you should get to bed and worry about the final rehearsal in two days’ time instead of stressing over your past.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Louis.”

“Love you.”

“I love you too, dumbass.”

\--

Two days before the production, the person who’s supposedly playing Romeo got pneumonia. Which, wow, an unfortunate coincidence (maybe the play was cursed). It is also an unfortunate case for Louis, who was at his hairs ends trying to figure this out.

“What am I going to do about this?” He asks the wall as he lies down on his bed.

Harry just frowns as he tries to come up with a plan, any sort of plan, really, to sort this out. Zayn’s also tried but they don’t really know what to do. The only person who Louis has cast as Romeo is unable to perform, and he doesn’t have an understudy, why, Louis doesn’t know, he must’ve overlooked that very important detail.

And unless he could find someone who knows the script by heart, which – wait.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, oh my god why didn’t I think of that?”

“ _What_?” Harry stresses.

“You can play Romeo!” Louis exclaims happily, then snapping his fingers at Harry. “Hello, get on with the program.”

“You want me to play Romeo,” Harry repeats dumbly.

“You’re ready! We’ve been practicing for as long as anyone else!”

“You’re forgetting one very major flaw, though.”

Louis stops throwing bits of paper around to look seriously at a serious-looking Harry. “What?”

“I suck.”

“You’ve _improved_.”

“I still suck.”

“Hmngh,” Louis groans as he falls face first onto his pillow. “Why does my life turn out like this?”

Harry is caught between wanting to help Louis and not wanting to let him down, both of which are inevitable anyway, so, you know. What the fuck. “Fine.”

The speed at which Louis rises from the pillows is astounding. “Really? You’ll be my Romeo?”

“I’ll be your Romeo. I’m not going to promise that I’ll give it a spectacular one but I’ll try my best.”

“You’re such a pal,” Louis beams up at him. He starts to ramble on about the schedule for tomorrow’s final costume rehearsal and what the actual day will entail but all Harry could hear was the word ‘pal’. Which, you know, _ouch_. Friendzoned.

“Earth to Harry.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles. “I zoned out.”

“You okay, Haz?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

And despite the implication earlier on, he smiles at the reference.

\--

Harry is freaking out. It’s only an hour left until the curtain opens and he’s freaking out. He’s in his costume, for fuck’s sake, and he’s _still freaking out_. He puts his hands on the sink and tries to breathe in and out.

“Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.”

The door burst open and a very harried looking Louis Tomlinson is suddenly standing beside him.

“There you are!” Louis exclaims. He makes a double-take and notices the state Harry’s in. “You alright, mate?”

“Stage fright.”

“Oh dear,” Louis says. He stands beside Harry and starts rubbing his shoulders. “Have you drunk some water?”

“I can’t swallow anything,” Harry gulps. “My throat’s all clamped up.”

“I need you to listen to me, okay. Look at me.”

Harry brings his eyes up to look at Louis, who was staring at him determinedly.

“Follow my voice, okay? I need you to breathe in, okay now breathe out. Breathe in, and breathe out. Close your eyes and imagine standing underneath a hot shower. Let it wash away whatever doubts that are freaking you out, and just let it go.”

 _Let it go_ , Harry thinks. _Let it go_.

When he opens his eyes, he realises how close they are, and how Louis was warm, so warm, compared to the clammy hands he was clasping and unclasping. He notices that Louis has pretty eyelashes, and high, high cheekbones that does some models injustice, and his lips are pink, so pink and kissable.

And then Louis steps back, his eyes a bit panicked as he swallows and clears his throat. “Here,” he says, passing Harry a bottle of water. “Hydrate yourself. And whatever happens, remember that you can do it. Promise?”

Of course, Harry thinks. “Promise.”

Louis stands there for a few moments before giving Harry a kiss on the cheek and a wavering smile before leaving the restroom. Before leaving Harry in front of the mirror, holding a bottle of Dasani, a very rouge shade of pink painted on his cheeks.

The speaker crackles and a voice announces that "the show starts in twenty minutes, and can everyone please report backstage.”

It’s show time.

\--

“How did I let this happen?”

“It’s not your fault. The stars didn’t align to our favour, but in another world, in another world…”

“In another world we’d be together.”

“Always.”

“Don’t go. Please.”

“My love, we shall be reunited once more, I promise,” Louis says tearily as he looks up at Harry through his wet eyelashes.

And, the thing is, Louis looks perfect _—_ not that he wasn’t before, but the spotlight is shining on him, and Harry could see the contours of his face, his high cheekbones dusted in the lightest of pink, his eyes a deep, deep, blue, the unmistakable smell of coconut and cologne that’s slowly becoming more and more familiar, and his lips _—_ so soft and pink and inviting and Harry just _—_ Harry’s brain short-circuits for a moment and he doesn’t remember the script.

It doesn’t help that Louis is staring at him carefully, as if he wanted to kiss Harry as much as Harry wants to kiss Louis, but was afraid of something, Harry isn’t sure what. Then he remembers that this is the part where Louis was supposed to ‘die’ and Harry was supposed to embrace his still figure.

But no _—_ he has been wanting this ever since he’s laid eyes upon this _—_ this small yet loud boy, a courageous little lion who’s not afraid of anyone, a self-proclaimed punk rock person who is addicted to indie music but has too much pride to tell Harry so, and he knows that if he doesn’t do this he’d probably burst.

So he kisses him.

And it was how he’d ever imagined it to be.

It was soft, and sweet, and magical. Everything about it was magical. He was kissing Louis, and Louis was kissing him back. And as the crowd rose to their feet, Louis stares at Harry with uncertainty in his eyes, and Harry kisses him again.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> To luckyniko - I hope you liked it! I apologise if it wasn't what you were hoping to receive but I hope you'll accept this from me! 
> 
> As for the rest of you, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it one way or another. :)


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